


An Old Turbulence

by Annasunshine77



Category: Far Cry 4
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pagan reflecting, Romance, Short, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:04:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annasunshine77/pseuds/Annasunshine77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all truth, he wasn't sure how much of her he could let go. But he had done it. She was free now. Free from the heaviness of his arms and Mohan's destructive hands. Now this island, this island he would keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently finished Far Cry 4 and needless to say, I fell in love. I could go on about the Far Cry series forever but I'll just leave it at that. Here, have some of my Pagan feels.

Pagan closes his eyes. He can picture a boat, rocking with the sea. It is wooden with a white sail. Along the planks he can see her. She is staring straight ahead, her back turned to the distant island. Her long, dark hair tickling the neck of her toddler son cradled to her chest. The waves crash along the boat and all she is focused on is the sparkling, deep blue, distancing her away from the dark that never allowed her to sleep. Pagan opened his eyes and instead of blue, he is met with green. The same familiar green that creeps into his hollow, worn bones at midnight when he is thinking of her most. He thinks of her wet, slick hair straight out of the shower. It created a stream from the bathroom to his bed. The streams continued on his pillow when he’d lay her head down. He thinks about all he told her, from his self-righteous father to his future plans of a private backyard for their family. In those moments, no body parts were outside the covers. Her arms would wrap around him and he felt small and fragile, like a young fawn. Outside of that room, it was always different. He followed his brain, unless she threw him off guard and caused a twist in his heart. 

Pagan is torn. He’d always known he could never own her like he did the island, and he’d always known that he wouldn’t let himself try. But that didn’t mean that Ishwari had to leave all of him. If she loved him, why’d she leave him? That is the hardest part to understand, yet he feels acceptance leave his body so easily when he thinks of the real reason she left, for Ajay to create his own life. He has no idea how, but she has stuck herself far into his heart, so far that he is scared he will never be able to look at the bells and not think of her. There is a light part of him that is certain that she will return. It is when his fingers are busy with writing that thoughts fleet through his mind. ‘Ishwari will come back any day, I should have this place permanently picked up’, and ‘she has to come back, she’ll miss my rotten humor too much’. Pagan is tumbling with himself, and he thinks he knows who will win.

Pagan gets up and stares longingly off the North Bridge. His eyes and ears are open and he is much aware of the life and death surrounding him in this moment. It is ground breaking, almost deafening. He wonders if Ishwari ever felt this way in his arms. 

In all truth, he wasn’t sure how much of her he could let go. But he had done it. She was free now. Free from the heaviness of his arms and Mohan’s destructive hands. Now this island, this island he would keep. Her words still ring in his head each time he makes a decision. They speak of mercy and redemption, two words that were vaguely foreign in his mouth. He will never be a good leader, he knows this. But he will always be aware of her overlying silhouette looking along his shoulder, watching over Kyrat and the king himself. At least until she’d come back.


End file.
